


Diary

by eponine119



Category: Lost
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26545930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponine119/pseuds/eponine119
Summary: Juliet finds a notebook in Sawyer's drawer
Relationships: Juliet Burke/James "Sawyer" Ford
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Diary

Diary  
by eponine119  
August 3, 2020

Juliet's working on the grocery list when she finds the notebook. She checks whether they need various things, and when she tries to open the bedside drawer on James's side, it sticks. She tugs at it, trying to determine what's keeping the drawer from opening, bending down to try to look and then sticking her hand inside to try to shove down whatever's in there. 

The drawer pops open, and the problem was a Dharma composition book with a newly bent front cover. She frowns a little because she's never seen it before and wonders where it came from. She sits down on the bed, pulling one knee up, and flips through the pages of the notebook. 

About half the pages have been used. It's James's handwriting. Of course it is, it's on his side of the bed, and it's in their house and he's the only other person who lives there. Juliet starts to get the feeling she shouldn't be looking at this. But she looks at the last page and skims a few lines. Then she flips farther back. On some of the pages, the words take more the form of poetry than paragraphs. 

She blinks and closes the notebook. 

That's when James walks into the bedroom. He stops two steps from the doorway. 

For a long time, Juliet didn't think that he ever got embarrassed. Never mind that all people get embarrassed. Even non-humans get embarrassed. She just didn't think she'd ever seen it happen. But after awhile, she started to recognize a certain look in his eyes, a certain scowl or wrinkle in his forehead, a particular kind of surly sarcasm. That's how he looks right now. 

“What's this?” she asks, holding up the notebook. 

“You tell me.” 

She gives him a half smile and cocks her head questioningly. “I was doing the grocery list,” she said. “And I was checking your drawer.” 

“Don't know why,” he says. He grins teasingly, but his shoulders are stiff. “We always need more rubbers.” 

“There's other stuff in there,” she says. She places her hand on the bed beside her. “James?” 

“You read it?” he asks, guarded. 

“No,” she says. “Just flipped through to try to see what it was. It looks like...” 

“I know what it looks like.” He scowls, and she smiles. “What're you grinnin' at?” 

He makes her heart so full. It will never stop surprising her, how much she loves him. “Nothing,” she lies, and keeps smiling. 

He sinks down on the bed next to her with a sigh. “I just started writin' stuff down.” 

“Why?” she asks mildly. She's really interested. Just when she thinks she's got him figured out, there comes a new twist. 

“Don't know. Too much stuff in my head.” He meets her eyes. The look in them makes her sit very still, because it's love. He loves her. She still isn't used to that. “First time in my life, I've got things that are worth remembering.” He puts his hand down on top of hers, and it makes her breath catch. 

“So you decided to start keeping a --” 

“Don't call it a diary,” he says, and his scowl is back. 

“You're the one who said it,” she teases. Even though she's touched. Maybe because she's embarrassed, too, because she doesn't think it's the Dharma Initiative that suddenly made him want to take note. He's writing about her in that notebook. And his feelings. Maybe. It's hard for her to imagine. “It kind of looked like some of it was poetry.” 

He sighs again, and takes the notebook out of her hands. He twists it, like he's thinking about ripping it in half. She wonders if she should take it back from him, but she doesn't want to fight about something so sweet. 

“I should have put it under the floorboard.” 

“That floorboard gets pulled up any more often and it's going to break. You don't have to hide anything from me,” she says. She knows he's got a shoebox under there, full of who knows what. She hasn't peeked, but the creak has gotten progressively worse, so she knows he's been in and out of it more often lately. “You keep your secrets,” she says. “I'm not going to read it.” 

They look at each other for another moment, and she leans in to give him a quick kiss. Their lips part, and his hand settles on her arm, holding her there. He opens his mouth to say something, and then stops, wild-eyed. 

“What?” she asks. 

He shakes his head, and the moment's gone. “Nothin',” he says, and drags a hand through his hair, shoving it back out of his eyes. He kisses her and then gets up. The notebook's in his hand, and she wonders if she'll ever see it again. If he'd ever trust her with some of that poetry. 

“James,” she says. But she realizes she can't ask him. He has to offer it. And he might never. Suddenly, desperately, she wishes she could read it, that she could know all his inner thoughts and mysteries. It occurs to her that she might not want to know them. It might be about something else. Someone else. She takes a breath and sets her jaw and changes her question. “Do you need more shampoo?” 

He grins. “Nah, I like usin' yours. It smells nice.” 

“Do you want to come to the store with me?” 

He shakes his head quickly, and she knows why. She wonders that she's never seen him writing, for as many pages are full in that notebook. She picks up her grocery list. “I'll be home in about an hour.” She gets up and heads for the door. 

He keeps standing where he is, clutching his notebook, so she has to slip past him to leave the bedroom. He puts his hand on her arm and gives her another kiss, then looks in her eyes with something unreadable there. “Juliet, you know I love you... right?” 

She smiles. “I love you too,” she replies. She still feels like there's something more. Something he's holding back. She waits for him to tell her. 

“Just makin' sure,” he says. 

“Okay,” she nods, still puzzled. She slips out, and he stays in the bedroom. After a moment, she hears the floorboard groan, and she thinks she understands. 

But when she gets home, the black and white notebook is lying on the desk, with a pen holding his place. He's in the kitchen, fixing supper, but he's obviously been writing in his diary. She smiles. His journal. Notebook. She puts the paper grocery sack down on the counter and pulls out a brand-new notebook and a pack of pens. “Just in case,” she says, handing them to him. 

He looks down at them like they're the best present he's ever received. But they're more than stationery. It's a symbol of her trust, and that he can trust her to respect his boundaries. That she supports him, in whatever he wants to do. 

Even if she's dying to know what the hell he was doing under the floorboard, if not hiding his notebook. But she figures she'll find out soon enough. When he's ready. 

End


End file.
